


January

by firstbornunicorn



Category: Josh Hutcherson - Fandom
Genre: Drug Use, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3742648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstbornunicorn/pseuds/firstbornunicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Josh and Nina and how they met.<br/>This story takes place in the city of Bondi, Australia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	January

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing from both characters perspectives. This chapter is Nina's perspective of the first time they met, and the next chapter (almost finished :) ) will be Josh's perspective.
> 
> I use photos to help visualise the scenes, none of these photos are mine (unless I say so otherwise) and were retrieved off google images.

I try to focus my eyes as the strobes bounce around and illuminate the room, and the deafening thump of the bass on Skrillex’s latest track pulsates in my ears, as I make my way through the throng of heated bodies.

I’m drunk and I stumble slightly and look for something, someone to grab on to. I find myself clutching to an unfamiliar male who smells heavily of alcohol and sweat. “Hey sweetheart, you’re a bit keen aren’t you? C’mon lets go upstairs for some real fun.” He sneers.

“Ugh, I don’t think so buddy.” I retort. I give the guy the filthiest look I can muster and push him to the side. I hear him and his buddies laugh as I saunter off. “Cunt” I mutter under my breath, as I try to remember why I am even here in the first place.

 I walk into the kitchen where I find my best friend Leigh getting her face eaten by some guy she probably met ten minutes ago. I tap her on the shoulder and she turns around. “Have you got any left?” I eye her carefully. She knows what I’m talking about. She reaches in to her pocket and then holds out her palm, two small white pills. I take them both from her. “Ill catch ya…” I drift off.

Turning around I hold one of the pills up and examine it against the light, I then place it on my tongue. I moan loudly as I feel it dissolve, absorb. It’s exactly what I need right now. Placing the other pill inside my jacket pocket, I make my way upstairs to find the bathroom.

I fumble with the doorknob for a moment before opening the door, crossing my fingers and hoping no one is in there already. Once I am inside I shut the door quietly and breathe a sigh of relief, its empty. I walk over towards the sunken tub. I lower myself inside it and close my eyes, feeling the drug take control over my body.

_An hour passes… or maybe its 5 minutes, I'm not entirely sure._

There’s a loud knock at the door and I am temporarily roused from my hazey, dreamlike state. “Occupied” I murmur, still with my eyes closed. The person outside the door evidently doesn’t hear me as moments later the door is flung open.

I’m so strung-out though, I don’t even care.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear y- I thought there was no- wait, are you alright?” he stammers. I note his American accent and I’m almost curious. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just really enjoy passing the time in bathtubs” I reply sarcastically.  
I finally open my eyes to see who my intruder is. A short, reasonably attractive guy with brown hair, a ridiculous looking cap and an impressive jaw line stands at the doorway. Ugh, I cringe at how awkward this situation is, and sink further down into the tub.

“I spend quite a bit of time in bathtubs myself” is his witty reply.  
“That’s fantastic.” I mumble, unappreciative of his obvious and terrible attempt at lightening the situation.

“Do you want me to leave?” I can feel him hovering at the doorway.  
I hesitate “Why would you even want to stay?” I reply quietly, unsure if I’m talking to him, or myself.

He is silent. I close my eyes and listen for the sound of the door closing behind him but instead I feel someone slide down in front of me.

“Ugh what the fuck?” I peek out of one eyelid.

He’s sitting in front of me with his knees drawn up and a hopeful grin plastered on his face. I examine him up and down and oh Jesus; he’s incredibly good-looking and somewhat familiar. I breathe in, he smells like tequila and pot.

I eye him cautiously, “Do we know each other?” I ask.  
“Nah… I’m not from around here”. He replies.  
I sigh. “I know that dumbass” I begin. “Its just, this is my usual scene and you just look familiar somehow. On the other hand, I’m really whacked, so I could be hallucinating this entire thing.” I conclude slowly.

“Well, you are most definitely not hallucinating this, I’m as real as they get. What are you on?” He looks at me curiously, eyes glinting.  
“The latest. Why? You want some?” I say teasing.

He raises his eyebrows “What would a house party be without the use of some hardcore drugs?” He shakes his head, laughing.

I reach into my jacket pocket and slowly pull the other pill out. I show it to him and he looks down at it then back up to me. “What? You scared?” I joke.

“Fuck no.” He breathes out, eyes dark. He takes the pill from my hand, and gingerly lifts it to his mouth. Then he hands it back to me.

“Ha.” I snort.  
“What’s your name?” he asks.  
“That’s not really important” I quickly shoot back. This could be dangerous, the less this beautiful stranger knows about me the better.  
“I still want to know it” he replies.

This guy clearly doesn’t get the hint. “Fuck, you’re persistent” I say slightly too aggressively.  
“You’re rude.” he states matter-of-factly.  
I already know that, I think to myself. “Bite me.” I say with a slight smirk.  
“Gladly” He replies.  
Touché. What a dick. “I’m sorry but what are you still doing here?!” I yell, feeling myself becoming frustrated.  
“Same reason as you’re still here” he calmly replies, as if he already knows, he has won this round.

Silence.

“Nina.” I say quietly, not looking at him.  
“What?” He says, either not quite hearing what I said the first time, or purposefully asking, just to make a point, I’m not sure.  
“My name. It’s Nina” I repeat, feeling my face flush.  
“Do you want to know mine?” He smiles gently at me.  
“Not really” I laugh, but it lacks any kind of emotion.  
“I like your tattoos” He says as his eyes travel over my body observing the tattoos that travel down my left arm and, to the one on my upper right thigh.  
In this moment I feel completely exposed. “Thanks” I mutter awkwardly.

More silence.

“Why are you at this party” I ask out of curiosity. He’s probably here with a girlfriend or a friend of a friend or something like that. Surely he can’t be here to associate with the peculiar bunch of people I consider to be my circle of friends.

“One of my work friends knows a few people here and asked if I wanted to tag along, I figured what the hell.” He replies, unfazed.

“Have you got a lighter?” I blurt out suddenly.

He looks surprised but reaches into his tanned jean pocket and pulls one out. I reach into the other pocket of my jacket and pull out a joint; I’d been saving it specifically for tonight.

“You mind?” I ask, not really caring if he says yes or no.  
He stares intently at me. “No” he says, shaking his head.

I light joint and take a good long, hard hit, and I look up at the ceiling and exhale the smoke.

 

I offer it to him, he takes it and puts it to his lips and takes a drag. I’ll admit, it’s incredibly sexy. I start to laugh, unsure of why this all American boy is getting high with me in a bathtub. The whole notion is ridiculous really, but it’s the most real thing I’ve felt in a while.

We’re both silent for a while. We pass the joint back and forth until the door bursts open, dragging us back to reality.

“Josh!” begins a whiny voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” It takes me a moment to adjust to what I am seeing, but I realise I am looking at fucking Rachel Carter, number one blonde, bimbo, cockeater in the whole of Bondi, everyone knows she swallows them whole. Fuck. Me. Dead. She’s asking for it tonight too; a dress so short it should be illegal, sky-high heels and a face full of foundation and glitter. I groan in disgust, this can’t be happening.

Its this moment when Rachel realises we are both sitting in the bath.  
“What the fuck? Josh?” she begins, “Nina? What the fuck are you doing?” She threatens. “Ugh Josh seriously, what are you doing with the towns biggest crack-whore psycho? Ugh never mind, I’m bored and I wanna fuck, lets go.” She finishes, smacking her gum.

‘Josh’ looks from me to Rachel and my face flushes with pure embarrassment. I jump up out of the tub, and run out the door before anyone can say another word. I run down the stairs two at a time, almost falling flat on my face and I burst through the front door.

The fresh, crisp air feels amazing on my face, I push past the crowd of people on the front lawn and stand in the middle of the road, wondering which direction I should head in. I extract the other pill from my jacket pocket and discard my jacket on the ground, not caring about if I’ll ever get it back. I take off my floral doc martens and tie the laces together and throw them over my shoulder. I start to walk.

I walk for about ten minutes before I see the glow of headlights approaching me from behind; I keep walking hoping the car will just pass by, but as it gets closer I feel the engine slowing down and my anxiety increases. The car is now travelling as the same speed as I am and I hear the sound of an automatic window being wound down.

“Need a ride?” a voice asks. I recognise that voice, its bathtub boy.

I cringe. “I’m cool.” I say without even looking at him.

“Nina-“ he starts. I turn to face the car, a large black SUV with tinted windows. Josh is sitting in the backseat, with his head hanging out the window. “Who are you? Al Capone?” I begin to accuse. “Where’s Blondie?” I ask bitterly.

“You think I’d really go home with her?” he looks almost offended at this.

I stare at the ground.

“Nina, please get in, you shouldn’t be walking by yourself” he begs.  
“I’m fine.” I say calmly. “I walk this road all the time.” This is a lie; I’ve never walked home from here alone before.

“Max, stop the car.” He instructs the person driving the car.  
“Look Josh, don’t-“ I begin. But he’s already climbing out of the car.  
“If you wont get in, I guess I’ll have to walk you home.” He smirks “Max” he turns back towards the driver “I’ll get a cab home.” He waves him off. I cringe, I really would of preferred to walk alone tonight.  
“Are you a part of the mafia?” I carefully question him, gesturing towards the car now in the distance.  
“What? No! It’s a job requirement.” He laughs, like it’s a completely normal thing to be saying.

We walk in silence, for a little while.

“I don’t need your pity.” I say glumly, looking everywhere but his direction.  
“Who says I’m giving you any?” he smirks, apparently amused that I would suggest something like that.

We reach my apartment in a little under twenty minutes.  
“This is me.” I point towards the little apartment block in front of us.  
“You live alone?” He asks me shyly.  
“Yeah, I like being alone” I say almost defensively. Why do I even have to explain myself? There’s nothing wrong with my living arrangements.  
“I see” he nods thoughtfully.

****

 Its silent as we both stand at the door looking at our feet and I briefly wonder if I should invite him in, but my train of thought is interrupted as a sudden wave of nausea overcomes me and I find myself on my hands and knees puking in Mrs Michaels rose bush she so lovingly planted at the front entrance. What a shame, is the last thing I remember thinking before passing out.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

I wake up to the sunlight streaming through window blinds. I sit up slowly, stretching my limbs, and my pounding headache hits me like a tonne of bricks. I feel like I’ve been run over by a semi-trailer and I’m so fucking thirsty. I look over to my bedside table and I notice is a small glass of water and two paracetamol. My first reaction is to grab the water and skull the entire thing, but then I realise, that someone put them there, and then that brings a whole new train of thoughts; how the fuck did I get into bed?

I look down at what I’m wearing; my oversized grey jumper that I bought on sale last week and not a lot else. I clap my hand to my mouth, overcome with memories from last night’s escapades. A dreamy stranger who bought me to my front door… and then I vomited and oh dear god, I vomited and now I’m here. Surely in my inebriated state I did not end up here on my own. All of a sudden I’m extremely curious and worried. I cautiously lift myself out of bed, groaning as my head throbs, and pad my way out into the kitchen. On the bench is a glass of orange juice and a note. I pick up the note, my vision blurring as I struggle to focus on the words.

 

 

_Nina,_

_First things first, drink; orange juice is a great hangover cure._  
_However I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on? Hah._  
_I couldn’t leave you alone last night; I was worried you might choke on your own vomit if I left you for even just a second. I hope you don’t mind, you’re a stubborn little thing._

_I had to run some errands this morning, but I’ll be back to check on you whether you like it or not._

_See you then,_  
_Josh._

 

 

Jesus Christ Nina, you’re a fucking mess.

I read the letter three more times just to be sure and skull the glass of orange juice. “Shower” I groan loudly to myself.

The hot water cascading down my hair and back feels incredible and the intense heat turns my skin red raw, but I don’t mind, anything to clean any traces of last night from my body. I step out of the shower and into the steam filled room, and put on a comfortable pair of tracksuit pants and a black singlet. I make it as far as the couch before crashing and falling into a deep sleep.

“Nina” a voice stirs me. I ignore it, hoping it will go away.  
“Nina” the voice says again. This time I feel a gentle nudge on my shoulder. I roll over and snap my eyes open, focusing on the person’s face in front of me, a look of horror and recognition spreads across my face. Holy shit, Josh Hutcherson is in my fucking living room.


End file.
